


The May Queen

by heavywingdthief



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Among Minor Characters Anyway, Arranged Marriage, Gay Panic, Gender Roles, Historical Fantasy, How Do I Tag, I Can't Even Think What to Tag This With, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, That's An Important One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavywingdthief/pseuds/heavywingdthief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A queen chosen from the common people is tradition. The queen disappearing just before her wedding is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The May Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this basically eight million years ago. IDK. I have no excuses, I love my own story. 
> 
> Also - despite the mess of pairings in the tags, it's definitely a Taeckhun story. It just. Has. Like. A lot going on in subplots.

_For hundreds of years, the May Festival has served as the great peacemaker between the upper and lower classes. Nobles and villagers alike gather in the streets to drink, sing, and feast, celebrating the warm weather, the planting of crops, and the crowning of the May Queen. Chosen from among the common folk, she is their chance at a bit of the power they don't get to have for the other fifty weeks of the year._

_Of course, her glory is controlled by the palace, allowing her to be a figurehead as she is groomed for a life of royalty. The May Queen is always chosen with the knowledge that she will someday marry the heir to the throne._

_Like a well-loved folk tale, the villagers watch as during the months between the May and Harvest Festivals, their commoner-Queen and the untouchable Prince engage in a whirlwind romance. There is nothing spontaneous about it; it is planned from the moment she is chosen as a child, but it is as crucial to the palace's relations with their subjects as any bit of domestic policy. The royals appear to value the opinions of the average man and woman, and one lucky girl is allowed a life of luxury and a way to keep her family afloat_.

 

-

 

_"The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers,_

_And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;_

_And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray;_

_And I'm to be the Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May."_

 

It was hours after Cherreen had ascended the throne – the people's throne, not the king's, but the lovingly-cleaned farming tools and polished woods and river stones that made up its structure still shone with the very real promise of that future – that Nichkhun found himself laying on the hill overlooking the town, listening to the never-ending folk song refrains and the thick swoosh in the air every time Wooyoung swung his sword. The air was rich with tradition and music and the heavy smells of beer and whiskey, the kind that were only ever brought out of cellars for the May fair, and that currently had Nichkhun smiling serenely into his arms, crossed comfortably beneath his chin.

There was a deadened sound, steel slicing through mud, and Wooyoung flopped down beside him, not quite occupying the same faraway cloud. It was obvious to Nichkhun why he looked so unappreciative of the May fair festivities – everyone was well aware that Wooyoung had his eye on Cherreen ever since they were kids, and her quickly-approaching marriage was weighing heavily on him. It was pointless to yet again remind him that there was nothing any of them could do about it, so rather than address the pout on his best friend's face, Nichkhun rolled onto his side and teased. “Be careful with that thing, dumbass. You and I both know you can't afford to replace it.”

Wooyoung pulled a face and let out the most sardonic laugh he could muster, but he still tugged the sword from the sod and placed it down gently. Frustrated or not, it had belonged to Nichkhun's father, and he knew it deserved respect.

“This is all so barbaric,” he muttered, resting his chin on his hands, and Nichkhun sighed. He'd been saying that over and over for the past few months – everything about this whole May queen ritual was outdated, ridiculous, a ploy by the royals; he was sure they would treat her horribly, she'd be much happier here.

Nichkhun wasn't sure he agreed, but then he wasn't sure he didn't, either. Royalty kept to themselves, and the only time the villagers heard anything about them was when they absolutely had to. In fact, they'd had no idea there was a young prince at all until a messenger had come to their farm just shy of Cherreen's sixth birthday.

Their father had been a knight, and had been owed a debt by the king himself, so when he knew he was going to die and leave his family without a way to stay afloat, he'd asked the king for the one thing he knew would guarantee a future for his wife and children. He asked for his youngest daughter to be chosen as the May queen. And so, when Cherreen was just six years old, the age-old tradition began again.

She was dressed in white, decorated with spring flowers from all over the kingdom, and paraded around the town for one week each year, heralded as the people's queen. Ever since then, she'd been groomed, trained by tutors and servants from the palace to someday be ready to marry the prince and take her place by his side. Her brothers and sister had never lived the normal villager life by that influence, often choosing to hang around and attend her lessons.

Nichan had a mind for politics, Yanin had picked up archery, but to Nichkhun it was all both fascinating and overwhelming, and he'd mostly taken to acting as Wooyoung's sparring partner when a royal guard around their age had agreed to teach him to use the sword he'd always been in awe of.

For a long time, it was like a game. The children knew the tradition that went along with it, but it was like a fairy tale, something to enjoy now and worry about the consequences of later.

Cherreen was nineteen the year the king got sick, and suddenly what had been just a far-off idea was an actual, concrete date. She'd be married on the last day of the harvest festival that year.

She'd always taken her position with grace, if nothing else; she'd never known anything but this future, and as the May fair burst into life, she was the embodiment of what the people's queen should be – kind, smiling, one of the common folk. She held herself with pride and dignity, and it was infectious. As strange as the whole thing was to Nichkhun, he couldn't help but be proud.

Stretching out on the cool ground, he kicked Wooyoung's leg gently. His mind was happily fuzzy from the drinks he'd had before wandering away from the crowd, but he could feel the negative energy his friend was giving off. “Look, I know this is hard,” he started, but was cut off.

“You really don't, Khun. No offense meant, I swear, but you don't.” Tilting his head to the side, he watched Wooyoung's chin rest on his hands and his eyes slide closed. He knew he didn't have an answer for that. “I get that this is a family thing. You know I love your family like they were my own, yeah?” Giving a nod, Nichkhun waited for him to finish. “But you've never been in love. And don't -” Wooyoung peeked an eye open, stern even in that. “Don't try to argue with me on that. We both know that the only reason you're marrying Tiffany is because she's as not into you as you're not into her.”

Nichkhun huffed, peeking back at his friend. There really was no use arguing. Wooyoung saw things about him that even he didn't see, at least until several months and a couple of lectures later. Tiffany was amazing – probably his best friend after Woo, and he'd thought, for a while, that he was truly in love with her. But the more the people around him talked about the way he must be feeling, the more he realized he wasn't. He loved her, yes, but it wasn't anything like the way Nichan felt about his wife, or Yanin felt about her husband, or his mother talked about his father, or Wooyoung talked about Cherreen. Still, he was getting older and he was expected to marry, and she didn't mind. Not the most romantic of situations, but that's what he had.

“I don't know what you expect me to say,” he mumbled, despite his concern feeling warm and comfortable sprawled out. “There's nothing you can do. There's nothing anyone can do.”

He could practically feel the scowl on his best friend's face as he sighed and grumbled back, legs swinging to retaliate with his own kick. “There has to be something.”

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this first bit forever ago on AFF? It'll be updated in both places from now on. 
> 
> Also pls forgive me for being slow as hell with updating. Don't look at it on AFF. I won't be that slow.


End file.
